Tag Archives: humor

Violence Never Solves Anything, Unless You’re 4, When It Totally Does (via the Washington Post)

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Washington Post — Do all 4-year-olds spend their time running around hitting things? Things like walls and chairs and fireplaces and their father’s shins and the fish tank? Because we’ve encountered a pretty consistent hitting issue with our 4-year-old, and we’re not sure where it’s coming from. Like many parents, we’ve taught for years that you don’t solve your problems with your fists (that’s what the light sabers are for).

Frankly, I’m not too bothered by the hitting of the walls, or of me (although the fish are getting a little anxious). It’s often accidental, I’m accustomed to it and it doesn’t hurt much, except the time he accidentally connected while holding one of his wooden Thomas trains, which, I am not going to lie, hurt like a Gordon. I’m pretty sure there’s still red paint on my teeth. We turned that into a Very Serious Lesson about resolving your issues calmly and patiently (and some words you’re not supposed to say when you’ve been hit in the teeth).

The full fight story over at the Washington Post.

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Urban Outfitters is Selling Cassettes and We All Just Need to Pump the Brakes (via GQ)

(via GQ)

(via GQ)

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GQ — For the last several years, the mall rats at Urban Outfitters have served as some of our nation’s leading vendors of vinyl records, which is news that would be morally disquieting if I didn’t buy vinyl at Urban Outfitters, which I have been known to do, because they had a bright-red edition of the Charlie Brown Christmas LP and I am not made of stone.

Look, I understand that America’s Adult Buying Population has a soft spot for literally anything it previously encountered during the glory days of adolescence, but let’s be clear: Cassettes are stupid, for these very good reasons.

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Science Says Cheese is Basically Cocaine (via GQ)

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GQ — You know how it is: You’re bored at some fancypants dinner party, so you meander over to the snack table and think, “Cool, they have cheese,” and then, “Whoa, that cheese is tasty, I should have another few blocks,” and then 10 minutes later you’re smearing cheese all over your nose and jumping over coffee tables while shouting about how you’re the god of thunder? Well FINALLY science has taken a break from proving Earth’s spherical shape to B.o.B to afford us an explanation: Turns out cheese triggers the same excitable brain-parts as some of your favorite hard drugs! So the opposite is probably also theoretically true, which will help explain if you’ve ever been like, “This meth is good, but what I’d really love is some lasagna.”

The full sharp revelation over at GQ.com.

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13 Times Axl Rose Was Left Completely Unchecked During the ‘Use Your Illusion’ Era (via GQ)

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This simply does not happen to normal people.

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GQ.com — The Guns N’ Roses reunion is actually happening, which means one thing: It’s definitely not happening. But on the off chance everyone’s shit is held sufficiently together to perform the band’s threatened Coachella sets and the alleged stadium (!) tour to follow, this could very seriously be the only show worth seeing in 2016. (Fact: Even when they’re played by some numbnuts in an upside-down KFC bucket, the opening notes to “Jungle,” when heard live, actually light you on fire, and now Slash is playing them). While we wait for whatever is happening in Team Guns to play out (probably a TON of kilt-laundering), we thought we’d revisit the insane, epic, over-the-top, blank-check, golden-god phase in which Axl Rose and his borderline personality disorder frightened everyone into letting him do anything he damn well pleased. Best of luck, guys. We’ll see you in the desert. (Please text us if you’re not gonna make it.)

Get in the ring at GQ.com

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The 4-Year-Old Who Wasn’t In His Bed (via the Washington Post)

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On Parenting from the Washington Post — It was a little before 2 a.m. when we discovered our 4-year-old wasn’t in his bed, but it took several more minutes to realize he was also not in the house. The details of the night have grown muddled through the initial fog of panic, years of retelling and the way the now 11-year-old doesn’t exactly remember it, but here’s what we’ve pieced together:

The 4-year-old, at some point between the last time we checked on him and the 911 call, awoke in his bedroom on the second floor. He got right out of bed, opened his door, walked down the hall, turned left, went downstairs and passed through both the kitchen and living room, where his mom had fallen asleep on the couch while studying. He flipped up the lock on the sliding glass door, opened it, unlocked the screen door, opened that too, extracted a pair of floppy blue Crocs from the shoe basket, slipped them on over his footie pajamas and walked outside, closing both doors behind him. We’re still not sure if he was awake — we’ve come to find he inherited his dad’s entertaining gift for sleepwalking  — but we do know it wasn’t an accident, or some wandering gone awry. He wanted to go outside, so he went outside.

The full story at the Washington Post.

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Here’s Why My Kids Listen to Songs With the Filthy Language (via the Washington Post)

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Washington Post — When my boys are in the car, I occasionally play songs that contain bad words. It’s not a running theme; I don’t buckle them in shouting, “Who wants to hear Death Certificate?” That’s for my drive home. But if a song comes on that drops a bomb from any of the Bad Letters, I’ll offer only a flash of reaction, feel some burned-in but slight impulse to leap into the backseat and shield my beautiful boys’ ears from both obscenity and, you know, the horrors of the world we’ve made. Then some other, broader impulse takes over and I think, “Wait, this isn’t really that big a deal, and also I should probably be driving.”

I’ve come to this conclusion for these reasons.

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If You’re 11, There is an Awful Lot of Crying in Baseball (via the Washington Post)

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Even for stock art you find by searching “crying kid baseball,” this is pretty heartbreaking.

Washington Post — The season ended, as seasons often do, before anyone was ready, in 2.5 seconds of heartbreaking blur. A surprise double play, shortstop to second to first, that was over before most of us realized it started, mostly because they don’t usually turn double plays in Little League. We didn’t even get the luxury of getting down to our last out. Everything broke the Cardinals’ way, and we were still in it for 5 and a third innings. A nail-biter for an hour and 49 minutes, and it’s over in a finger-snap. Baseball’ll break your heart.

And though he’s not really a “sports kid” so much as a “books about dragons” kid, Little League brought out those feelings, tons of feelings, way too many feelings, not just in my son but basically everyone wearing a youth-sized Yankees hat.

This, people, was the crying-est bunch of boys you ever saw.

The full story at On Parenting by the Washington Post.

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Lifelong Cubs Fan Still Can’t Believe They’re Going to the Playoffs (via GQ)

If you buy them inside Wrigley, paper bags are $24.

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GQ — Barring some sort of monumental collapse, the Chicago Cubs are bound for the playoffs, and I think we all know what that means: We’re about to witness some sort of monumental collapse. Because if being a Cubs fan teaches you anything, it’s to believe nothing, to trust nothing, that life is pain and all hope dies. Or, you know, some variation on that, I’m still playing with the wording and the smothering darkness.

The sad, sad tale at GQ.com.

 

 

 


Here’s Why I’m Not a Sports Dad, Aside From Being Very Terrible at Sports (via Success)

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Success — Here’s the story I usually tell when someone brings up nutty sports parents.

At the first T-ball practice of the season, back when my son was 7, I introduced him to the coach. I told the man that Jake had begun playing only the year before, on a team named after a fine local flooring store. The words were apparently a trigger.

“I remember you guys!” The coach suddenly exclaimed, more animated than people usually are when discussing the marketing strategies of local flooring stores.

“We played you in the championship—you beat us 7-3! You had orange uniforms, right? And you had those little blond twins who were really good.” Here he turned to his own son, who ambled up behind him. “You remember, right?” The kid rattled off their names. This went on for a few minutes, and the whole time I stood there dumbly thinking, Wait, there was a championship?

The full story, starring sports dads, Drew Storen and “Weird Al” Yankovic — over at Success.

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RIP Columbia House, Without Whom I’d Have Accumulated Like Half as Many Extreme and Tesla CDs (via GQ)

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But did they tell you about the shipping charges? NOOOOOOO.

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GQ — Columbia House, the mass music-warehouse/inventory-closeout company you may remember from the back of every magazine between the years 1987 and 1994, closed this week. This, of course, is a sentence that makes no sense, like, wait, that was still open? That didn’t shutter in 1995, or when we all got Napster, or when they released the iPod? Who in the hell was ordering eight-CDs-for-a-penny in 2015, a magical, terrifying age in which you can clickity three buttons on your phone and dial up literally any piece of recorded music produced since the early Renaissance? It’s a little like hearing that Maxell cassettes just shut down, or that fax machine sales are on the slide.

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